


almost

by MayWilder



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1, M/M, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Minor Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 01:29:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21171176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayWilder/pseuds/MayWilder
Summary: Harley drew the noises he wanted from Peter, felt every inch of him, and he wants more. He wants all of Peter. No barriers and endless hours to explore each other. He told Peter what he wanted, why he’s done what he’s done, and then just turned around and left. Peter was in his arms, shaking and hard and waiting for him to make another move, and Harley walked away. Like an idiot.It just. He wants. Wants Peter so badly, but he doesn’t want Peter to be feel coerced or forced or teased into it. He wants total and complete consent, and something about the charge of that fucking janitors closet didn’t match the feel that he thinks they need.So he’s waiting for Peter to really decide and then...maybe, maybe they’ll be electric together.***or, 5 times the boys tease each other and the one time they're able to give in





	almost

**Author's Note:**

> my last of parkner stories I have pre-written! im not sure when i will next be posting, but it might be a hot minute. thank you to ALL of you readers, especially the ones that read everything i write. it has meant so much being part of this community and i have endless love for you
> 
> shoutout to Alex for asking for something like this in the first place, and to enzhe for being beta and working through all the writing kinks. and shoutout to Madi for being my number one girl and biggest supporter throughout every goddamn piece of writing i put out. love you baby <3

**1.**

When Peter pulls Harley Keener into a closet, he doesn’t imagine that the other boy will be shirtless, panting, and making Peter’s knees shake with the flush of his cheeks.

“The  _ fuck, _ Parker?” Harley snaps, panting. The low light of the closet does nothing to stop Peter from appreciating the way his sweat literally glistens. “You usually spend your time harassing interns?”

“Why are you shirtless?”

“ _ That’s _ your question?”

“Well, it just wasn’t part of the plan!” Peter hisses. “You were supposed to be coming back from a meeting with Happy!”

“I’m Pepper’s personal intern, genius, I’m basically with her all day. Happy’s having me trained in hand-to-hand combat as back-up protection.”

“Oh." Peter swallows, mildly embarrassed. “That makes sense.”

“So do you want to explain yourself, now?” Harley crosses his arms and looks down. “What’s your deal?”

“My deal?” Peter gapes. “You’re the one who keeps fucking with me. Embarrassing me in front of Tony, becoming friends with Flash of all people, and pranking me like it’s your job.”

“Jesus, you’re still pissed about the glitter in your webbs?”

“It’s not funny, its humiliating! I had criminals laughing in my face.”

“You gotta stop caring so much what other people think, Parker.”

“Or you could stop being an ass and just leave me the hell alone!”

Peter realizes he’s raised his voice by now, breath coming out in short, irritated puffs. He’s inches away from Harley’s face, chin tilted up in defiance and anger. Harley’s pupils are blown, and he’s got the most irritating smirk on his face.

“Maybe you don’t want me to leave you alone,” Harley teases. “Maybe you just want a different kind of attention.”

“Attention?” Peter questions, thinking about Harley’s particular focus on getting a rise out of Peter. “Are you… _ pulling my pigtails, _ Keener?”

Harley’s gaze flickers, but he keeps his face impassive. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You are,” Peter breathes. “Oh my god, are you such a dick because you _ like  _ me?”

Harley’s smirk doesn’t waver, but his jaw does set.

“So you couldn’t use your words like a grown up and—

“Christ, Peter.” Harley pushes forward until he’s flush against Peter. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“No?” Peter squeaks. “You’re just—such an ass, I didn’t understand what I ever did.”

“The first day we met.” Harley’s voice is strained. “You, you got a phone call from someone, MJ, I think. She made you so mad, and your sweet, nerdy little face got so red and angry.” His eyes drift shut like he’s imagining it all over again. “ _ God _ , I imagined all the ways I could make you look like that, get you all red and flustered. But then I teased you about it, and you got even angrier, and I don’t know—it sent the tone or something.”

Peter can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You’ve been poking my buttons because you like how I look when I get angry?”

Harley looks mildly guilty. “Possibly.”

“God, you really are an ass!” Peter reaches up to run his fingers through his hair but his proximity to Harley brings them close to the other boy’s face. He stops his exclamation to watch in awe as his fingertips brush Harley’s skin and the other boy gives a little tremble. “Oh.” He tries again. “Oh,  _ Har _ ley.”

“Peter—

“You’re about to burst,” Peter grins, smug because he’s knows he’s right, hands confidently cupping Harley’s face. Harley’s lips part. “You want me, and you don’t know what to do with yourself. Ah—don’t try to deny it, I can sense it. I don’t know how I didn’t before…”

Harley swallows. “Please, Peter, I’ll leave you alone.”

Though the switch in power dynamic is a nice high for Peter, he feels the hair on his arms stand up, and knows Harley’s close to his breaking point. He’s going to snap. 

“What if…what if I don’t want you to?” Peter asks, thrilled when Harley’s eyes flutter closed again. “What have you been wanting, Harley? I can feel something, but you have to tell me, have to show me.”

And then, the snap.

One hand fists in the base of Peter’s shirt, tugging him closer while his lips capture Peter’s. Instantly, Peter’s senses fire and everything is sharp, hot, focused. Nails scratching at the base of his spine, Harley’s leg sliding between his, and the slick feeling of Harley’s skin under his hands. God, it feels good, and Peter wants it, wants  _ more. _

“I want to take you back to my apartment,” Harley whispers harshly, licking at the curve of Peter’s ear. “I want to put a gag in your mouth so you  _ shut up for once _ . I want to taste every inch of you, finally get my hands on this perfect ass…”

Harley accents his words by sliding a hand to cup Peter’s ass, drawing them closer together. The move causes his zipper to press into his hard-on. Peter’s eyes roll back at the friction.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Peter moans. “What else, Harley?”

“I can’t decide how I want to take you first,” Harley continues. “Do I want you on your knees, so I can watch myself as I fuck you? Or do I want to lay on my back and let you do all the work, ride me until your legs shake?”

Peter trembles.

“Or,” Harley whispers, suddenly, as if an idea just occurred to him. “I can pick you up right here, and fuck you while all of our coworkers walk past us?”

Harley kisses his cheek, too gently to match the attitude and the charge in the room.

“Whatever you want, Peter, I want it. I want  _ you. _ So, think about it and let me know.”

And then Peter is left in the closet by himself, hard and shaking and wanting Harley Keener to turn right back around.

  
_ **2** _

Harley literally cannot stop thinking about Peter Parker. 

In board meetings, he looks across the table and watches Peter nibble on his pen, twist his hands in his shirt, and flush when addressed. Harley lives for the two classes they share at Columbia, where he gets to watch Peter interact with the professors and showcase how incredibly smart he is. Any time he spends in the presence of Peter Parker is a gift. 

It’s just, he...he messed it up. Royally. 

Since the first time Harley accidentally saw Peter get all kinds of ruffled and irritated, he’s been itching to make it happen again. He’s pushed all the buttons he can find, made him angry and annoyed and deliciously flustered. Now, though? Now Peter fucking knows how he feels and what he wants. He knows the only reason Harley is nice to Flash, and why he teases him in front of Tony. He knows it’s so Harley can get a reaction. 

Everything that happened in the closet was a goddamn mess. 

_ It was good, though _ , he thinks, staring at the door where Peter is supposed to walk through any minute. Tony and Pepper are supposed to be in this board meeting, and its Harley and Peter’s jobs to be there with them. Except Peter and Tony aren’t here yet, and Harley’s spending his free time recalling what it feels like to press Peter into a fall, roll against him and taste him…

Fuck. 

Harley drew the noises he wanted from Peter, felt every inch of him, and he wants more. He wants all of Peter. No barriers and endless hours to explore each other. He told Peter what he wanted, why he’s done what he’s done, and then just turned around and left. Peter was in his arms, shaking and hard and waiting for him to make another move, and Harley walked away. Like an idiot. 

It just. He wants. Wants Peter so badly, but he doesn’t want Peter to be feel coerced or forced or teased into it. He wants total and complete consent, and something about the charge of that fucking janitors closet didn’t match the feel that he thinks they need. 

So he’s waiting for Peter to really decide and then...maybe, maybe they’ll be electric together. 

“Sorry, everyone,” Tony calls out, walking into the room. “I was a little held up, but we can begin.”

Harley looks up, and the pen in his hands snaps in half. 

“Harley,” Pepper hisses. “Honey, what just--

“Sorry,” Harley chokes, unable to draw his eyes away. “I’m so sorry, Miss Potts.”

Pepper gives him a worried look, but focuses on the board around them. “Um, right. Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

Harley wishes he could take notes properly, study how Pepper interacts with the board and learn how to be the proper CEO he’ll need to be. It’s just, Peter Parker looks so goddamn amazing. His usually slicked back hair is in its natural curls, tempting Harley as the sun hits them through the large windows. Harley tears his eyes from them to go lower, appreciating the white button down that stretches across Peter’s broad shoulders. The material is nearly see-through, and Harley’s lips water. 

If possible, the rest is even more tempting. 

He’s wearing tight jeans, dark enough to look alright in a professional setting, but hugging his skin in a way that is entirely unprofessional. His thighs, strong and confident with each step, look somehow more appealing than ever--and it’s because  _ Peter is wearing heels. _ A simple pair of red heels helps shape his thighs and calves, clicking as he moves to take his seat next to Harley and looking unfairly innocent the whole while. 

“New look?” Harley mutters weakly. 

“Do you like it?” Peter whispers back, leaning in so closely that Harley catches the clean scent of cologne. “Just wait until you’re watching me walk away.”

Jesus Christ, Harley is weak for this man. 

The meeting progresses and Harley is utterly fucking useless. All he can think about is Peter, leaning back in his chair so that the highest button on his shirt snaps open. Actually snaps open. With that goddamn Spider-Man strength, Peter’s too-tight shirt just...snaps a button off. 

Oddly enough, it lands in Harley’s lap. 

Peter glances over, cheeks red, biting his lip just slightly, and Harley is going to wrangle his neck. This jackass knows exactly what he’s doing. Harley can’t imagine there is any other reason he’s making those eyes at him. There certainly isn’t any other reason for Peter to be doing...everything he’s doing right now. 

Blissfully, the board meeting ends and its lunch break. Harley takes Pepper’s notes and tells her to have a good lunch with May and Tony before fleeing the room. He needs to get far away from Peter and collect his thoughts before he’s going to do anything remotely productive.

“Harley!” Tony’s voice echoes down the hall. “I need Peter to pick up some files from your office.”

Harley adopts the look of nonchalance he long ago perfected and turns around. “Sure, old man. Don’t slow me down, Parker, come on.”

“You can wait,” Peter says as he walks up to Harley. 

“Such a hassle. What am I going to do with you?”

_ Stop it, Keener.  _

“I have a few ideas,” Peter laughs. “I think you had some too. Something about fucking me against a shelf while all of our coworkers walked past?”

“Unless you’re up for it, I’d appreciate you not reminding me of that.”

“Who says I’m not up for it?”

Harley almost drops the papers he’s holding when he comes to a stop in front of his office. “What?”

Peter grins at him, reaching for the door. They walk into the office quickly. Peter kicks the door shut behind him and doesn’t bother flicking the lights on. Harley, entirely too eager and almost embarrassed by it, simply drops the files in his hands and enthusiastically accepts Peter crowding against him. 

“You look so fucking good,” Harley murmurs, lips brushing across Peter’s. “The jeans, the shirt, the heels. All of it.”

“What’s your favorite?” Peter asks. He lets their bodies settle together. 

“Hmm…” Harley slides one hand to Peter’s ass, the other up his back and to his hair. Twisting his fingers into the curls, he tugs a little and pulls the other man closer. “Can’t decide.”

Their lips press together and Harley feels his head spin. It’s just as good as before, with Peter’s lips pliable underneath his. He lets Harley run his tongue along his bottom lip before sliding in and tasting the same stupid fruity gum he’s always chewing. The fake-sweetness doesn’t even bother him because its Peter, whimpering and raising his hips just enough to show that he wants this too.

_ I’m going to fuck Peter Parker on my desk,  _ Harley thinks, kneading the rounds of Peter’s ass. He’s rewarded with a groan and Peter’s fingers digging into his hips. 

“Fuck, Keener.”

Harley drops to his knees and steers Peter around, pressing him into the desk. “Please, Peter--

“Yes,” Peter says. “Whatever, baby, whatever you want.”

Jesus Fucking Christ, Peter is leaning back against Harley’s desk, curls disheveled and legs slightly spread. “You have no idea how much I want.”

Harley has just popped the fly on Peter’s jeans when the room lights up red. Peter straightens up, instantly alert. “Fri?”

“Intruders on the ground level, Mr. Parker,” Friday says. “Boss is calling for you and Mr. Keener to both suit up.”

Peter cringes and looks down at Harley through his eyelashes. “Sorry, baby. Looks like today isn’t our day.”

Harley is seriously going to kill someone. 

  
  


_3_

The next day, Peter sits in the lab. He curses the people who screwed up Harley’s thrusters the day before. They’re completely ruined, and Peter’s going to have to make new ones before playing around with the new Starkpad. 

Right as he’s falling into the work, his music lowers. The doors slide open and Harley walks in. Peter feels his stomach drop at the sight of the other man, casually dressed and looking like he just came back from class. “Harley.”

“Hey, Parker,” Harley grins. He tosses his bag towards the couch in the lab. “How’re you doin’?”

“Shouldn’t you be in your own office?” Peter asks. “You have a whole afternoon of work ahead of you.”

“Just thought I would come and see how my favorite chemical engineer is doing.” Harley’s voice is light and teasing as he walks over. “And to check in on my suit.”

“You messed it up,” Peter grumbles. Maybe if he ignores Harley blatantly enough, Harley will work for his attention…

“Oh?”

“Mhmm.”

“Don’t wanna elaborate?”

“Nah."

Peter’s efforts are rewarded. Harley walks up behind him, hands resting on Peter’s shoulders. He dips his head and presses a soft kiss to the curve of his neck. Peter closes his eyes. Tilting his head, he lets Harley access more of his neck and sighs at the contact. Goosebumps rise on his skin, and Harley chuckles before turning his head to nip at the sensitive skin behind Peter’s ear. “That’s not very nice, Peter. It’s my suit after all.”

“I built it,” Peter breathes out. “And I fix it every time you bring it to me. I think it could be considered mine.”

“Could it?” Harley chuckles, sliding a hand down to Peter’s hip and tucking his thumb into the seam of his jeans. “I think I remember drawing up the designs myself.”

“You shouldn’t have chosen business,” Peter retorts. He leans back into Harley’s chest, reaching a hand behind him to find Harley’s slicked back hair and give it a light pull while he continues marking up Peter’s neck. “Should have--ah!--picked to be Tony’s intern.”

“But someone needs to do Pepper’s job when we take over,” Harley chuckles. “And we’re supposed to do this together, aren’t we? Run the company as a team.”

“Do you play well with others?”

“I think I could play well with you.”

The stupid, cheesy line shouldn’t work, but Peter can’t argue--Harley’s hand is now cupping Peter through his jeans, using expert hands to find the length of his cock and stroke it through the material. It makes Peter whine and shift his hips up. “Prove it.”

Harley laughs again, low and in his chest so that Peter can feel it. He turns his head just enough that their lips can meet in a kiss and god, is it as good as ever. Peter whimpers when Harley wraps his other arm around him, continues kissing him while popping open his jeans. The blonde wastes no time in sliding a hand into Peter’s boxers and gripping his length. The feeling has Peter dropping his head back onto Harley’s shoulder and crying out, thrusting up just so--

“God, you look good, sweetheart,” Harley whispers, hoarse, into Peter’s ear. One of his hands pumps while the other laces through one of Peter’s hands and rests against his hip. “You’re so flustered, and so beautiful, I can’t wait to make you fall apart.”

There’s no hope in focusing on anything. Peter tries desperately not to break the hand Harley is holding and instead bends the metal table under his other one. It’s too good, Harley’s breath in his ear and hand wrapped around him, twisting at the perfect angles and encouraging him to move. He’s saying lewd things that Peter wants, that Peter sees, and he’s going to--

“Little Bosses, I feel obligated to tell you that Boss will be entering the lab in only fifteen seconds.”

Harley jolts away from Peter with a “Fuck!” and Peter’s eyes water with the sudden loss of stimulation. He hurries to tuck himself back into his jeans and scoot further under the lab table, leaning over where he’d bent it only moments before. By the time Tony is back in the lab and sending Harley off to some business for Pepper, Peter is in a positively foul mood. 

“What’s up with you, kid?” Tony asks with a frown, moving to sit across from him. “You normally can’t wait to show me what you’re working on.”

“Nothing,” Peter says quickly. “Just...annoyed at Harley for breaking his thrusters again. Might have to ask Shuri for some vibranium because he’s a disaster.”

“You’re telling me. Need any help?”

_ Not from you,  _ he thinks miserably. Aloud, he just says, “Nope. Thanks anyway.”

And while Peter works, he flashes back to Harley’s hands on him and knows he can't let it end here. He needs a plan. 

  
**4**

One week later and Harley is still thinking about how close he was to finally seeing what Peter is like, coming because  _ Harley _ is touching him. He’s still thinking about the sounds the other boy made, the slight twitch of his hips and how he felt, hot and heavy and pulsing--

Harley lets out a yell of frustration and hits the punching bag too hard. Groaning, he shakes out his wrapped knuckles and looks at the ceiling. “Lord Jesus take me now.”

“Does Jesus help the average sexually frustrated gay man?”

Flinching at the realization that he’s got company, Harley turns to find Peter walking towards him. “Only if we’re really desperate.”

_ Which I am.  _

“Noted,” Peter chuckles. “If you’re done assaulting the punching bag, you wanna spar?”

Harley doesn’t point out that Peter’s enhanced strength means that he could kill Harley with a well-aimed blow. Instead, he takes in the flush of Peter’s cheeks and the way his eyes rake over Harley’s shirtless form and comes to the conclusion that sparring is just a pretense. 

“Yeah, why not?” Harley shrugs. He follows Peter over to the mat in the middle of the gym and faces him with a small smile. “You need to stretch or anything?”

“Nah, I’m ready.”

“Let’s go then, Parker.”

“Waiting on you to make the first move, baby.”

Harley licks his lips. “I already did. It’s your turn, now.”

“Really?” Peter giggles. “We still talking about sparring?”

“Is there something else we should be talking about?”

Peter tilts his head with a little shrug. “Well, if it’s my turn…”

Peter moves forward with a solid swing of his arm. Instead of ducking or stepping aside like he should, Harley raises his forearm to block the strike--that’s definitely gonna bruise--and catches Peter with a blow to the ribs. It’s enough that the other boy stumbles back a bit. Peter recovers quickly, however, and is able to duck Harley’s attempt at a kick and come up closer, throwing a couple swings in. He never makes direct contact with Harley’s face, but taps his shoulder or chest or hips, toying with Harley’s inability to keep up. 

“I forget you do all your fighting in a suit,” Peter teases, bouncing back a bit. “Need a breather?”

“Not all of us are genetically modified,” Harley pants. “Besides, I think I can recall how to get you lost for breath.”

“And yet here I remain, my breathing perfectly stable.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Peter comes forward again, but Harley blocks another strike. He kicks as fast as he can, but Peter gets a hand around his knee. Going for the unexpected, Harley throws his entire weight at Peter, trusting the hand on his leg to hold him up--it does--he hooks his other knee around Peter’s neck in a move he’s worked his butt off mastering with Nat, momentum knocking Peter backwards and Harley twisting around until they both crash to the mat, Harley on top. Harley’s breathing hard, but Peter actually looks like he got a bit of air knocked out of him, and that’s a fucking victory. “Outta breath yet, sweetheart?”

Peter actually growls and rolls them over. Whatever Harley was going to say abandons him because the next thing he knows, they’re kissing. Harley falls into it hungrily, already accustomed to how his hands find Peter’s ass and Peter’s thigh slides between Harley’s legs. Peter, bless his supernatural body, is already hard and arching into him. 

“Fuck, Harls,” he growls, hands placed on either side of Harley’s head. “You’re gonna be the end of me.”

“What a way to go, though, huh?” Harley grins. Peter rolls his hips and the friction makes Harley’s arrogance slip and his head fall back on the mat. “Goddamn, honey, closer.”

“Take me somewhere private, and we can get as close as you want."

Slightly startled by their eagerness and how public that was about to be, Harley finds the strength to stand up with Peter still wrapped around him. He tries to head to the shower rooms at least, behind a closed door where he can taste and touch and finally—

Peter tilts his hips to grind against Harley, a little whine escaping his lips, and he loses all control. 

Harley makes a frustrated noise in his throat he didn’t mean to make and pushes Peter into the nearest mat. He shifts position instinctually, finding what he needs. The flimsy material of their gym shorts means Harley can feel all of Peter against all of him, and it feels too good not to grind down. Watching Peter’s head tilt back while his eyes closed is a sight Harley wants imprinted on his memory forever. 

“You could come like this, couldn’t you, Peter?” Harley gasps, tugging the boy closer. “Fuck, I want that, darlin’, wanna see you--”

“Harley,” Peter whines, coming back up for a kiss. “Please, god, want that too.”

“I’ll make it so good, I promise,” Harley murmurs against Peter’s lips. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Christ--”

“I regret to inform you both that Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff are here to inform you of a very important mission.”

Peter groans loudly, looking up towards the ceiling. “How bad is the threat, Fri?”

“Something to do with an alien invasion and the assistance of the Asgardians.”

Harley drops his forehead to Peter's shoulder, almost feeling a little dead inside. Clearly the universe doesn’t want him to get laid. 

And that, like...seriously fucking sucks. 

  
**5**

Peter walks towards the dinner table, settling into the empty seat next to Harley. Everyone seems freshly showered and relaxed after the latest threat and looking forward to the (frankly obnoxious) spread of food Tony and Steve have ordered. There’s pizza, burgers, Mexican, hibachi, Thai, southern homestyle, breakfast food, and salad of all things. Harley’s currently got a plate with mac’n’cheese on it, sitting right next to a fish taco and lo mein. 

“What the hell?” Peter teases, looking down at the plate. “You can’t just...eat one at a time?”

“Fight me, Parker.” Harley takes a big bite of lo mein with a goofy smile and Peter feels his heart stutter. God, he’s cute. 

_ Shut it down, Petey, shut it down. This is not emotional, get your shit together! _

“Gross,” Peter says instead. “Where are your southern manners?”

Harley swallows. “Below the Mason-Dixon line.”

Peter has seen Harley be sickly sweet with his manners too many times to believe that, but he lets it slide and reaches for a burger and some pizza. “Thor, how long are you staying?”

“Until Stark admits that he desires my presence!” Thor booms, raising a mug of beer in cheers. 

“Which will be never,” Tony points out. 

“A clear sign he wants me to never leave!” Thor cheers. “And you, Spiderling? When do you return to your studies?”

“We’re done until Fall,” Peter answers. “Just gonna be Tony’s slave for the summer and work on Avengers equipment.”

“Oh yes, you’re treated horribly,” Tony scoffs. 

“Are you mean to Peter?” Wilson raises an eyebrow. “You know Pep won’t stand for that shit.”

“None of us will,” Natasha counters. She motions to her partner. “Barton, kill Tony.”

“After dinner. Also, we’ve been married for six years. Don’t you think you can call me something besides my old name?”

Across from Peter, Rhodey just about chokes. “I’m sorry,  _ what? _ You took Tasha’s name?”

Clint makes a face. “Obviously.”

“Married?” Steve exclaims. “Six years? What the hell, guys? Aren’t we teammates?”

“You guys were at the wedding,” Natasha says calmly. 

“How?!”

“That party where Nat wore the white dress,” Tony says in awe. “You two signed a piece of paper with Coulson, but I didn’t--

“Old news,” Clint clears his throat. “You and Steve set a date yet?”

Conversation moves into wedding planning and Peter eats happily, watching the team interact with the noise and familiarity of a family who’s been together a long time. He loves being around the team like this, loves having everyone at the compound. It’s right, it’s home, it’s--

_ Harley setting a hand on the inside of Peter’s thigh.  _

Peter pauses with his second burger halfway to his mouth. Harley is chatting across the table with Sam, and doesn’t look like he’s doing anything at all. So, Peter keeps eating, careful to pay attention to the warm hand slowly spreading out and finding a comfortable spot under the table. It’s work to continue like nothing’s happening, to control the blush that wants to creep up his skin and show everyone how flustered he is. 

“Pete?” Tony says warily. “You okay, kid?”

“Hmm? Yeah,” Peter says. Harley’s hands slides farther up and farther in so that his pinky is brushing against the seam of Peter’s crotch. “Just really tired and can’t seem to eat enough.”

“I understand,” Steve nods, holding up his forkful of food. “Must be the enhancements.”

Peter swallows. “Must be.”

Tony doesn’t look convinced, but turns back to his fiance as Peter sets his burger down and looks back to Harley. The blonde is laughing at something Sam says, even as he rotates his wrist to just cup Peter through his jeans. The action alone has Peter’s dick swelling, obviously a mind of its own to reach towards the way Harley’s gently massaging him through the tightening fabric. There’s been too much ‘almost’ lately and he can’t control the blood all rushing south. 

_ Fuck _ , he thinks, barely tilting his hips up to encourage the hand on him. It’s not enough that he would come, but it’s enough that he has to adjust his hips because it’s killing him not to thrust into a hand he knows can work him so well.  _ Two layers of fabric and I could be coming right here. _

That thought alone is sobering and Peter manages to find the self-control to grab Harley’s wrist and return it to his own lap. 

Harley turns to look at him with a small smile. There’s something dangerous in the bite of his lip, how he only has to fix Peter with a look and Peter knows exactly what he wants.

What they both want. 

Harley clears his throat and stands. “After the past couple days, I’m pretty tired. I think I’m gonna head off to bed. Night, everyone. Thor, save me some goddamn cupcakes or I’m never making you blueberry tart again.”

Thor looks properly frightened at that prospect, and everyone else cheers Harley goodnight. As Peter gives a quick wave of his hand, his mind rolls over how this night is going to progress. If he’s reading it right, Harley may be going to bed...but he sure as hell isn’t going to sleep. 

  
  


_ **+1** _

Harley has to wait maybe twenty minutes before there’s a knock at his bedroom door. Knowing Peter’s hearing, he keeps his voice low and says, “If it’s Peter, come in and lock the door.”

The door opens. Light filters through for only a moment before the door is shut again and the lock clicks into place. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hey, Harls,” Peter says. His voice is tight. “Did I read it wrong?”

“Not at all.” Harley pushes onto his elbows and examines the other man in the lowlight of the room. He’s wearing nothing but pajama pants, and his hair is still drying fluffy from his shower. He looks almost nervous, despite all the back and forth they’ve had over the past couple weeks. “Personally, I’m wondering what’s taking you so goddamn long to get over here.”

Peter grins. 

Harley watches the other man come forward and slide onto the bed next to him. Natural by now, Peter’s legs twist with his and their arms wind around each other. Peter uses his strength to place their bodies flush together while Harley digs his hands into those soft curls. The kiss is as electric as ever, Harley’s mind going deliriously blank with the simple pleasure of Peter’s lips against his. 

“At some point tonight,” Harley says breathlessly. “I want everything from you. I want to take my time, and I want us to savor this. But right now, I don't think I can do that.”

“Agreed,” Peter breathes, reaching for Harley’s boxers and pushing them down. “Get me ready, and then I’m not going to last long.”

They’re both so on edge. “Take off your pants.”

Harley rolls to slide his boxers down his legs and then reaches for the lube and condom in his bedside drawer. He rolls back to see Peter, naked and with hands twisted next to him in the sheets like he can’t wait. He looks impossibly good, making Harley wonder if they should rush this first time, or if he needs to go slow, purposeful, memorize every line of Peter’s body--

“Harls,” Peter whispers. “Fuck, why are you looking at me like that?”

“You have no idea, Peter Parker,” Harley croaks. “God, you--Jesus, okay.”

He settles on his knees between Peter’s legs, coating his fingers with the lube. The second he pushes a finger into Peter, the man’s head falls back with a hiss. “Not enough, Harley…”

Harley leans down to kiss Peter. He’s hot and tight around Harley’s finger, and squirming enough that Harley can feel how much he wants this. So, he distracts him with a kiss, adding another finger and scissoring his fingers. Peter moans into the kiss, one of his hands wrapping around Harley’s neck. It’s nearly impossible to focus on both tasks because Peter is so willing, _ so wanting _ , and everything Harley has ever wanted. 

“Harley, you won’t hurt me, I swear,” Peter whines, clenching. “Please, baby, just fuck me. We can take our time later.” 

How is he supposed to refuse that?

Harley pecks Peter’s lips before withdrawing his fingers and setting back on his knees again. He fumbles for the condom with a lack of grace that should be irritating, but it honestly self-explanatory. He slides it on, nudges Peter’s thighs farther apart, and sets the angle. “Peter?”

“Ready,” Peter whispers. “So ready.”

He pushes in. 

Tears well in Harley’s eyes at the sweet, perfect feeling of being surrounded by Peter. He lets out a loose moan, forehead dropping to Peter’s shoulder as he shakes with how he holds back, letting Peter adjust. The brunette is breathing hard, twisting his hands into Harley’s hair like he’s finding his hold on a lifeline. “Okay, okay.”

“Move?” 

_ “Move.” _

Harley sets a rhythm. He fucks into Peter steadily, the rest of the world fading into a hazy sort of nothing. There is nothing, right? Outside of Peter, nothing exists except this feeling, _ fuck, _ this heat, the soft gasps that Peter makes, and the way he tugs at Harley to get closer. They’re good together, they’re perfect, and Harley is going to lose his mind. 

“Fuck, Peter,” he croaks. He shoves his hands between them, taking Peter in his grasp and pumping. “Come on, darlin’ you can come for me, can’t you? You’re so beautiful, so-- _ god _ , I wanna see you fall apart--”

Peter whines. “Harley, Harls, baby--”

Peter unwinds his fingers from Harley’s hair, reaches behind him to grab the iron bars of Harley’s bedframe. They bend to his strength, and Peter’s back arches as he cries out, hoarse and tired, eyes not leaving Harley’s the entire time. The heavy lids, the relieved sob, the little tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes...the feel of him shaking and clenching around Harley. It sends him over the edge as well, hips losing control and a shout of Peter’s name falling from his lips. 

Sometime later, when Harley isn’t shaking quite as much and his head has cleared of ringing, he pulls out of Peter and ties the condom off. Peter is on his back, boneless and breathless, eyes delightfully hazed as he blindly reaches for a blanket. 

“I’m a cuddler, just so you know,” Peter says. “And after a mission like the one we just had, I want to be very cuddled.”

“Whatever you want,” Harley mumbles. Before Peter can cover them both in a blanket, he reaches for his discarded boxers and uses them to wipe up their stomachs and chests. Peter hums a little in thanks, rolling into Harley’s side and tucking his head into his neck. 

“I also want a date,” Peter mumbles sleepily. “And a lot more sex.”

“Deal,” Harley yawns. He pulls the blanket hanging over the (severely misshapen) headboard and throws it haphazardly across them. “Goodnight, Peter.”

“Night, babe,” Peter says quietly.

He’s snoring lightly two seconds later, and Harley falls asleep with a smile on his face. 


End file.
